THIS Was Really a Stupid Thing to Do

Yeah. It looked almost exactly like this one found here. 

I think that enough time has elapsed that I feel as though I can confess my latest um...... faux pas without alternating between crying and laughing.

Hoo boy. This one is a doozy. Would someone please explain to me why I unfailingly do weirdo things? Hm? Why??

So. I was at a reception following a funeral. A FUNERAL, for goodness sakes. We arrived at the reception site which was a nice home and walked into the foyer which featured a lovely table upon which was placed a large floral arrangement, a guest book, and several pens.

Oh, I said to John. A guest book! How nice.

I grabbed a pen, opened the book and signed our names. In ink. In indelible bold black ink. There for all of eternity. Yep. John and Julia were there, all right.

But.

As I closed the book, I noticed that the cover was made of gold-toned vinyl. And had 50th Wedding Anniversary embossed on it. Yes. I had signed our names to this lovely deceased lady's precious memento from her fiftieth wedding anniversary. Which had taken place twenty plus years ago.

I was aghast. Looking up at John I whispered (which probably sounded more like a panicked screech), I just signed this guest book!!

He looked at me.

This was NOT a funeral guest book! This was Nettie and Herb's FIFTIETH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY PARTY GUEST BOOK!! 

He did a face-palm and his shoulders began to shake with silent laughter.

STOP THAT! WHY didn't you tell me not to do it?! WHY? You KNOW what I'm like!

I dragged John into a corner where I sipped coffee to calm my nerves while John kept laughing.

What a supportive husband.

I mulled things over for a few minutes while I decided what to do; rationalizing my actions all the while: The book was the first thing I saw coming into the house, it had pens placed conveniently next to it, and it was positioned on a table in the foyer, for cryin' out loud.... Meanwhile, John had found someone to converse with so I was left to fret on my own.

After I drained my coffee cup, I emerged from my my self imposed exile, walked over to the foyer, grabbed the book and placed it on a different table where there was a display of pictures and memorabilia. Where the stupid thing should have been in the first place. I saw my friend walk past the foyer, and taking a deep breath, decided that I had better just 'fess up and get it over with. Hanging my head, I took her arm.

Girl. I'm so sorry.

Her eyes were puffy and reddened from crying. "Thanks, hon. I appreciate it. But it was for the best."

No, you don't understand. I just did a really stupid thing.

She looked quizzically at me.

I took a deep breath. I just signed your mom and dad's 50th wedding anniversary book. I'm so sorry...

She threw her head back and roared with laughter, then caught me up in a big hug. "Girl!! You made my day. THIS is why I love you! I don't know anyone else in the whole world besides you and me that would do something like that!!" Still chortling, she went out into the reception to share what I had done with her daughters, which set off another round of cackling and giggling. Of course.

I worked up the courage to greet others at the reception, who either hadn't heard the story, or had other more significant emotions to deal with. Thankfully the rest of the evening passed rather uneventfully, but as we said our good-byes, my friend hugged me again and said, "Thank you."

I'm here for you girl. Always.

"Yeah, well, thanks for that too, but what I meant to say was thanks for doing something really doofus. I loved it and I know that my mom would have been happy to know that we were laughing!"

Sigh. That's it. I'm not going anywhere. Ever again.